


At Last

by bandages



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coming Out, Drunken Shenanigans, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, aka i will protect matt murdock with my life and so will foggy tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandages/pseuds/bandages
Summary: If there’s one thing Foggy Nelson has learned about Matt Murdock by now, it’s how to tell when he’s holding something back. This is one of those times





	At Last

“Okay— okay okay, try-try one more time.”

“Ab-avugatos.”

“N-that’s not—” Matt convulses with laughter, halfway between wheezing and losing his breath altogether. “That’s not it! It’s _abogados_.”

 

Foggy, arm looped around Matt to hold him up even when he’s barely able to keep control of his own two damn feet, huffs a laugh. “I didn’t get it when-when we were in college how the _fuck_ would I get it now? We’re old, Matty!”

“Oh old, that’s the excuse, huh? Explain me, then. Explain-explain how I can remember. Explain.”

“ _Explain you_ ? You want that answer alphabetical or chronological?”   
“No, no that’s not what I—”

Another fit of giggling bubbles up from his chest. He goes off on something about how much he can remember from Spanish II, Foggy finds himself a little too busy guiding him away from the side of the street into oncoming traffic to pay much attention.

The glow of Josie’s buzzing “OPEN” sign reaches out behind them until they’re no longer in its grasp, street lights taking over the job of bathing their path ahead.

Sure, Matt has his freaky super-senses going for him, but God only knows how well those will serve him after 3 beers and far, _far_ too many rounds of shots. It wasn’t a matter of not trusting Matt, because Foggy absolutely did. The guy went around in red spandex fighting ninjas and shit in the dead of night. He could hold his own.

But, as Foggy finally manages to ground himself back in reality, and realizes Matt has thrown himself deep into the topic of exactly how accurate Legally Blonde _really_ was, Foggy starts to get the feeling he made the right choice taking him home.

Taking Matt home.

 

The thought forms a rock that sinks deep into the pit of his stomach. Never really been a man of faith, but he hopes to any and all Gods watching that Matt’s too off his rocker to notice any considerable change in his heartbeat.

“We gotta get you out there more, pal.” Foggy says, unlocking the door to Matt’s apartment with the key he’d given him years back. He lets Matt stumble in before him and refamiliarize himself with his surrounding, only then shedding his coat and stepping inside. “Your alcohol tolerance is… _not_ what it used to be.”

Matt breathes a laugh, all but collapsing into his couch. “It’s exactly what it’s always been.”

“Not _always_.” Foggy raises an eyebrow at that, pawing through Matt’s kitchen for two glasses that he fills to the brim with water, offers one to Matt. “Drink and thank me later. But seriously, you had your golden days! Frat parties, parties we weren’t invited to, parties where they called the cops, prom—”

“Never went to prom.”

Foggy nearly spits water all over himself. If he wasn’t sobered up before, he absolutely was now.

And for a minute all he can do is stare. Because he knows Matt’s picked up on him now, if he hasn’t been spying on his heartbeat the whole time. He had to be kidding.   
Kidding or blackout drunk; Foggy’s brain could only accept one.

“You’re shitting me.”

Matt sort of shrugs, blasé smile on his lips, like Foggy’s horrified reaction to his information is amusing. “No, I just— I never went.”

If there’s one thing Foggy Nelson has learned about Matt Murdock by now, it’s how to tell when he’s holding something back. This is one of those times.

Matt swallows back whatever was left of the unspoken memory behind a long swig of water, letting the glass rest against his knee. His fingers drum along the surface, a nervous tic that he thinks Foggy’s never noticed. He has.

“Why?”

There it is.

For a second Matt looks like he’ll dodge all of this completely, maybe even lie and say he did go to prom, he just didn’t drink. Which would be bullshit all around. Instead, he opens his mouth a couple times, soundless vowels and words forming on his lips that won’t come to fruition.   
He bites his lip, shifts a little in his seat. “Long story.”

Foggy scoffs. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

“Dunno. I can’t see you.”

Sly little bastard.

“You never— okay. Alright.”

 

Foggy is standing up and crossing the room before he even realizes he’s doing it.  
He flicks through his phone, opens the Spotify playlist titled “Love Songs”, and waits for it to pair with the bluetooth to Matt’s stereo.

 _At last_ _  
_ _My love has come along_

Matt swivels his head, following the general direction of sudden sound. “What— _what_ are you doing, Foggy?” Foggy can hear the smile on his face, he doesn’t even have to look anymore.

Continuing as if Matt hadn’t spoken a word, Foggy sets the volume to something that won’t wake up his neighbors, and circles around Matt’s couch.

He extends his hand, like an idiot, before just going to take Matt’s free one in his own. The glass of water barely makes it to the table without spilling.

“Matt, there is no excuse in the world that will make up for the amount of quality awkward prom dancing you missed out on.” Foggy grins, Matt’s hand tentatively slipping into his own. “You never learned how to leave room for Jesus, man!”

He’s a little wobbly, unsteady, but Foggy effectively has Matt in his arms.

  
_My heart was wrapped up in clover_ _  
_ The night I looked at you

 

Matt hums, an amused sound. “Yeah, might be the only Catholic man in Hell’s Kitchen not saving room for the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I can only hope I don’t.” Matt’s still smiling, and Foggy’s heart can only take so much.

 

 _I found a dream that I could speak to_ _  
_ _A dream that I can call my own_

  
The worst part is he knows Matt can hear it, thumping with the force of an earthquake against his ribcage.

 

“This is prom! We’re— I’m metaphorically taking you to metaphorical prom. Right now.” Foggy repositions a bit, pulling their intertwined fingers out to the side, slides his hand onto the edge of Matt’s shoulder blade. Not enough to be too intimate, too much at once, but enough to give him the idea. The urge to slide it down to the small of his back is almost overwhelming, feels like muscle memory.

 

 _And here we are in Heaven_ _  
_ _For you are mine at last_

 

Matt doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t melt into his grasp like Foggy dreams of. His muscles sort of tense, as if bracing for impact. “Foggy, if _this_ was the music they played at your prom, you’ve been lying about your age for years.”

“You would’ve known I was lying.”

Matt sighs, and finally relaxes a bit. “Just— okay, if I can’t talk you out of this, whatever this is, you gotta change the song.”

“What’ve you got against Etta James? She’s an icon, Matthew.”

Foggy releases his grasp on Matt’s hand to shuffle through his playlist, tries to ignore the overwhelming emptiness between his fingers where Matt fit perfectly, tries to ignore the feeling of holding his best friend so close to his body they’re nearly pressed together.

Matt manages to get through the first few notes of the new song before breaking back into a buzzed, giggly fit, throwing his face into the crook of Foggy’s shoulder.

 

 _Wise men say_ _  
_ _Only fools rush in_

“God who— who even are you? Is this Foggy Nelson?” Matt scoffs, pulls away just as Foggy slips their fingers together again.

Foggy rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. “Put your hand on my shoulder, asshole.”

Shaking his head, Matt does as instructed. His grip on Foggy is barely a ghost of a touch, but Foggy’s skin burns beneath it nonetheless. “Alright, alright. Now what.”

“Now, Mr. Murdock, we do this and pretend we’re having fun.” Foggy grins, beginning to sway Matt side to side, somewhat along to music’s rhythm; he can barely hear it over his pulse in his ears.

Foggy watches their footwork to distract his mind; it’s awful. Matt can’t stop stepping on Foggy’s shoes and even worse can’t stop apologizing for it.

Matt sputters a laugh, loosens up a bit in Foggy’s grasp. Enough that he even moves a bit closer, like he would put his head on his shoulder— if this was in Foggy’s wildest dreams.

 

_If I can’t help_

  
The two of them. The dim lights, crowded dance floor, everyone swaying together in synce like one living, breathing entity.

“What happened to leaving room for Jesus?” Matt says, and there’s a shift in his tone, a little twitch in his grin.

 

 _Falling in love_ _  
_ _With you_

 

“I’ll let you in on a secret, and this one’s gonna shock you—” Foggy leans in closer, despite himself, despite the fact that he can’t breathe. “We’re the only ones in the room right now.”

“Secret’s safe with me.” His voice is warm, settles sweet like honey in his chest. “And Jesus, who you’re ignoring right now.”

Foggy laughs, and it shakes a bit. Then it’s just music, and Matt’s steady breathing, and his warm smile, and Foggy’s racing heartbeat, and his hand trembling on Matt’s back, and—

“Am I, um, doing this right?” Matt voices, a soft, quiet question, and Foggy almost flinches.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, you’re… good. You’re doing good. I mean… you could— we could be closer and my hand should be...” In a burst of adrenaline, Foggy lets his hand slide down to the small of Matt’s back. “Here.”

“Hm.” Matt’s smile twitches, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

 

 _Take my hand_ _  
_ _Take my whole life, too_

 

He inches closer, almost uncertain in a way that suggest he doesn’t know when to stop, what’s too close or too far. Foggy encourages him with a gentle tug against his back.

They aren’t pressed together, not completely, but it’s close.   
So fucking close.

“I, uh, I almost went. To prom, I mean.” Matt starts, voice barely a whisper. “There was someone… I asked, nothing special just— ‘prom’?” A little laugh, it sounds sad.

Foggy swallows, hard, train of thought becoming a maelstrom. “What’d she say?”

And for a split second, the smile falls apart. Foggy catches it, he always does.

“Well, long story short... he said no.”

 

_He. He said no. He said. He._

All Foggy can come up with is: “Oh.” Because fuck what he has to say about any of this, Matt has a story to tell and he’s not about to stop him.

Matt licks his lips, takes a breath before continuing. “It got around, y’know. It just— it didn’t seem safe to go. And he was the only reason I even wanted to go through the whole thing anyway so…”

Then his head is resting on his shoulder, and Foggy knows he’s fucked.  
His heartbeat races in Matt’s ears as he finally allows himself to focus in on only that, until everything every part of his senses all of it is _Foggy Foggy Foggy—_

“I’m so sorry, Matt.” Foggy sways Matt a little more gently, feeling Matt’s hand reposition to curl up under his arm and grip against his shoulder like it was a lifeline.

His lifeline, his anchor, like he’d float away with no hope of return should he loosen his grip for even a second.

Matt laughs. God knows for what reason, but he just laughs. “Your heart sounds like a wardrum.”   
“That… might be the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”   
“You’re lying.”

With his head on his shoulder, Matt finally getting the hang of this footwork and swaying nonsense, it finally makes sense.

It, of course, being all those times Foggy’s heartbeat skipped when he walked in the room one day and never stopped doing it, pulse racing whenever his shoulder would bump his own.  
It, being the reason Foggy was always the one, the _only_ one, who could calm him down with just a touch, a couple words, the reason he could get out of bed in the morning anymore.

“Foggy.”  
“Yeah?”   
“While we’re spilling our guts here and—and we probably won’t remember a lot of this in the morning—”   
“I haven’t spilled any guts. Besides my apparently shit taste in love songs.”

“Foggy.”

Matt pulls away, cups Foggy’s face slowly, purposefully so. The music becomes a muffled blur in the background.

From there, well, that’s the point of no return, right? Matt doesn’t even need to comfort himself with the thought that he’s reading all this wrong anymore. Something, _something_ , washes over Foggy’s expression. Something like relief. From anxiety, from fear, from anything that was once there holding him back by an invisible string.

Foggy presses his lips to Matt’s own, and the string breaks.

It’s chaste, gentle, testing the waters. But the second Matt kisses back Foggy lets all inhibitions loose. He kisses Matt for all he’s worth, arms wrapping around him and pulling his frame until it melds into his own.

A gentle sigh of content hums against Foggy’s lips, and he melts, burning hot beneath Matt’s touch.

Matt pulls away with a sharp intake of air, unable for once in his life to read Foggy’s erratic heartbeat. “I’m sorry, Foggy, I— I don’t— I didn’t—”

“Matt.” Foggy says the name like a prayer, a shuttering, nervous laugh escaping his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that to happen.”

This effectively throws Matt back into wordless sputtering. So Foggy holds him. Close to his chest, close and tight and hides him from the world. The world that made him feel less than for asking a boy to dance with him on some stupid fucking insignificant night in a stupid fucking school.

No, not his Matt. Foggy holds him, as long as he needs him to, then a little longer.

“What happens now?”  
“Hm?” Foggy pulls away, just a bit. “Uh, well, this would be the point in prom where you get drunk beyond the point of return but, we’ve already done that one so...check.”

 

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

 

Matt tries, and fails, to hide a grin into Foggy’s palm cupping his cheek. “So, this would be the part where we try and sleep off the hangover.”

Foggy’s eyes flicker to Matt’s bed, fluffy and inviting and warm, smiles right back at Matt because damn if it isn’t contagious as hell. “Dunno, don’t remember. But fuck prom, we’re lawyers, we can do whatever the hell we want. So we’re gonna sleep in that bed.”

 

 _L IS FOR THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME_ _  
_ _O IS FOR THE ONLY ONE I SEE_

 

Matt’s grin almost cracks his face. “Foggy.”  
“I honestly had no idea that was on there.”   
A little pause, Matt reaches for Foggy’s hand. “You’re lying again, Nelson.”

Foggy pulls out his phone with one hand to flick away Spotify, letting the sounds of outside chatter and traffic take up the empty space, while Matt leads him to his bedroom with the other.

“Sue me.”  
“Mm, little too drunk to get into the paperwork for that one right now, Foggy. Remind me in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in, like, 3ish hours so its a little rusty buuuut its like that sometimes yknow  
> hope you enjoyed, thank u for reading <3


End file.
